As they lay in bed, she wonders why he's even here; why he even stays. They'd been together for six months, two weeks, and three days…six months, two weeks, and three days longer than she had ever expected them to last. She'd kept count, wondering when he'd finally be disgusted of her and leave like the rest of them did. But he's still here, asleep, his arm curled around her waist. She's thankful that he's able to sleep peacefully. She, however, cannot. Never could. Not since her family died. He knew her story even before they became involved, and he still fell for her. Delusional-that's what the others call him. He must be, to fall for her.

She has never told him, but she loves him. Loves him for staying by her, for supporting her. She loves him despite his wild ramblings and conspiracies. But that's what makes it hurt. She knows that despite the fact that she's in love with him, they would never last; a candle in a hurricane, doomed from the start. None of her relationships had ever lasted. Why should this one?

She's never told him about Dick, and how she only slept with him to get into the Bat-Clan. She knows he knows, however. She can tell. She can tell by the way he scrutinizes any of the tabloid articles about Dick Grayson, or how he refuses to go to Bludhaven. He always made up reasons for not going, and she would never probe him. Why should she? It would only drive him away more. But would it have made things better if he had left? Would it save the heartache?

She once told him that he should leave, get out while he still could. He laughed and called her a mystery that he intended to solve. Then he kissed her, and they made love, and everything in the world seemed okay. But it wouldn't be. Good things never last. Life taught her that. Watching her family die taught her that. She wished he'd left that day, and at the same time, prayed to whomever would listen, begging to have one more day with him. She's never felt more alone than she feels now, lost in her thoughts. He is there, in her bed, asleep by her side, but she's still that lost little girl.

His arms tighten around her, and she realizes he's awake. She turns to him, and he stares back, a smile on his face. She remembered the first time she saw him, what he really looked at. Bruised and bloody, a normal person would have thought he was hideous. She didn't. She thought he was beautiful. She remembered thinking how his red hair and eyes contrasted with his black hair and faceless features he wore as The Question. She remembered drowning in his eyes -- something so unlike her.

He kisses her, softly at first, and she mirrors it. When they break away, she begins to cry. She curses herself for being so weak. But he doesn't seem to care, as he thumbs away the tears, a sympathetic smile on his face. He's an orphan too. He understands what it is like to be alone. But, somehow, he received closure, whereas she did not.

He wraps his arms around her, and whispers that he loves her, that he will never leave. She wants to believe it, she really does. He kisses her again, as if to seal the promise. She cries harder, and he tightens his arms. Then, he begins to speak. He never speaks the soothing words one expects to hear, but he goes on about his latest conspiracies, and new governmental plans to take over the world. She thinks she likes it that way. She stops crying shortly after he starts talking, and he wears a triumphant smirk. She laughs, and it is a real laugh. She never wanted to laugh, but he has a way of making her. He kisses her again, and then tells her he loves her. She still thinks that he's too good for her. He doesn't care. He'd stick through it anyway.

FIN

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